


fires

by WahlBuilder



Category: Mars: War Logs, The Technomancer (Video Game)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Angst, Autistic Technomancers, Fights, Gen, Hurt No Comfort, Post-Canon, Technomantic Culture
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-02-15
Updated: 2019-02-15
Packaged: 2019-10-29 04:04:03
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 486
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17800724
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/WahlBuilder/pseuds/WahlBuilder
Summary: Roy and Sean have a fight.





	fires

**Author's Note:**

> Should be read after [however](https://archiveofourown.org/works/17632316) (and the stories connected to it, that come before it).

Roy knows he’s fast. That _thing_ in him is growing stronger with each day, with each breath he takes. Pushing him, pushing him beyond the limitations of a human.

He isn’t human.

He is an abomination.

And he is angry.

He makes a wide sweep with his staff (his staff, _his_ ; it falls so naturally into his hand, as though made just for him; it is, in a way). Sean is moving so slowly, as if Roy is watching a dream.

Only, it is Sean’s nightmare and Roy is the terror in it.

His swipe catches Sean under the shins and sends him into the sand, ending with a muffled thump that sounds so satisfying to Roy.

‘You talked them into it!’ he shouts, leaping to Sean and pushing him into the sand with a stomp on the chest. ‘I’m sick of your manipulations. You’d fit right well among the Aurorans.’

Sean looks up at him, face pale. ‘Roy, you need it.’

‘I called you my _brother_!’ He hits Sean on the face with another swipe of the point of his staff.

A weal appears on Sean’s skin, and soon reveals itself as a cut—something to mar the perfection of his face.

‘We still are.’ Sean sounds weary. Roy suspects it’s just another trick.

Everyone is trying to trick him, buy him, sell him. Everyone except for Innocence. But with examples like that, they are bound to pull Innocence into it, too. Roy is the worst example. After all, he did sell himself.

‘Roy. Please.’

It flares. It _burns_.

He raises the staff, point-down, and _feels_ how it’s going to reach right to Sean’s heart, crushing bones, cutting muscle, he can _taste_ Sean’s life…

_The whole world will burn_

Roy closes his eyes tightly, hands cramping around the staff. ‘I will _never_ be one of you. I never was,’ he whispers.

He steps away from Sean — stumbles — and throws the staff onto Sean’s chest, turning his back to him. Clenching his shaking hands into fists, clenching his teeth, his whole body, trying to fold his field back into himself.

He retracts it from the staff, and it shatters into eight-and-a-hundred pieces—for another Conduit to gather and reshape and use again.

‘If you leave, he will never forgive you, Roy.’

He stops, staring into the void.

Sean inhales sharply as the pointed end (The Heart of Darkness) drives between his ribs—a manifestation of Roy’s anger.

Not deeply.

Sean chuckles, a soft sound. ‘I admit, I deserved that.’

There are shouts of alarm and hurried steps and of course they come round Sean and try to help him, and the sharp point, not white but red now, has fallen out already (Roy will never kill again, never, never).

Roy folds his field tighter, tighter, away, away from them all, walking and walking and walking.

He doesn’t turn even when Innocence and Tenacity call for him.


End file.
